Hatred Can Give Meaning to an Empty Life
by Holz9364
Summary: After the war Harry becomes sort of like a ghost, he just floats around unnoticed, feeling dead inside and craving the rush that adrenaline used to bring him. Until an old rivalry sparks something inside him again. WARNINGS: Self-harm, depression, adult themes and content.


**Hatred Can Give Meaning to an Empty Life**

_**A/N: VERY Angsty fanfic, you have been warned. Although it does have a happy ending...ish. It's not entirely unhappy, let's put it that way! But it is pretty bloody dark, for me anyway. I mean all I ever write is fluff and love stories, so this is a whole new ballpark. The title is from a quote, the full form of which is below. And yeah, that's all I have to say about that really. Hope you enjoy the fic! :)**_

_**'Passionate hatred can give meaning and purpose to an empty life.'  
**_

_**\- Eric Hoffer.**_

* * *

It was ironic, really. Harry had spent the war fantasising about how his life would be when it was all over. He had thought of Ginny, and how they would probably get married and live a full, happy life. It had been the thought that pulled him through. He didn't know what he had expected, in a naïve sort of way he supposed he had assumed things would just go back to normal. He had expected things to be okay again once it was all over, once Voldemort was gone.

But it hadn't happened that way. The deaths had happened, and the funerals had happened, and at every single one Harry felt like he lost a little bit more of his humanity. He watched the coffin be lowered into the ground and in his head he added another scratch to the tally of how many people had died because of him, _for _him.

When the final victim was laid to rest Harry finally couldn't avoid Ginny any longer. She cornered him after Fred's funeral, she wanted comfort, she wanted him to hold her. He did, he did everything she wanted but he did it like a robot, out of habit, and he felt dead inside as he did so. That was really the beginning of the end for him. He stopped feeling anything, he didn't feel happy, not even when he saw Teddy. He didn't laugh anymore, not properly, it was a fake chortle not a real laugh. He rarely smiled, and for the rest of that summer he felt like a ghost. He was there, but nobody really talked to him, and people dodged him, avoided saying certain things around him.

He decided to go back to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T's but not because he actually wanted to. He did it because Ron and Hermione were doing it, and he didn't know what else to do. He thought going back to Hogwarts might help, that maybe he'd feel less disconnected to the world.

But he was wrong on that count too. It had been rebuilt, and it was different, it wasn't _his _Hogwarts even if it did mostly look the same. He could feel the differences, or at least he thought he could. Maybe it was just _him _who was different. He blended into the walls as he walked around the school, nobody bothered him and nobody spoke to him. He started to become more and more certain he really had died in the war, because this was no life at all. He started to wonder if by having that horcrux removed he was cursed to live the same half-life that Voldemort had done. He forgot what it was like to feel happy, to have butterflies flutter in his stomach, to feel jealousy's roar, to feel the burning bubble of anger rise within him.

He had countless people examine him, Muggle and Wizarding, all at Hermione's insistence and they all said the same thing. They said he was in shock, that he would get better, but Harry had stopped believing them when nothing had changed after months. He was all there mentally, he had all of his memories, he was still intelligent. He was just quiet, withdrawn they said. It wasn't post-traumatic stress they said, no, he would be jumpy, frightened. But he wasn't. He was just empty, hollow, dead inside.

Halloween came, and he didn't even feel the twinge of sadness he usually did. He didn't feel that for his parents, he didn't feel bitter that they had been ripped from him. He didn't feel angry at the way his life had turned out. Because what was the point? His parents were dead, and he couldn't go back in time so why waste his time feeling emotional about something he couldn't change. He supposed in that sense he was still bitter, but it didn't feel like that. It just felt like another day, the same as the day before, and it would be the same as the next day.

But it wasn't. It was the day he felt something for the first time in months. It wasn't a good feeling, but it was a feeling all the same. He had been doing his usual, trudging around the school looking for familiar haunts to see if they brought back anything, and as usual they hadn't. He had been on his way to one in the dungeons when he stumbled across Draco Malfoy.

Harry knew that the Slytherin, and former Death Eater had come back to Hogwarts after all. They had seen each other around, but despite the month they had been here for they hadn't spoken a word to the other. Harry hadn't seen the point, he didn't have anything to say to Malfoy. All he knew was that his Father was now in prison, and his Mother was dead. Normally he would have felt sorry for Malfoy, but since he couldn't even feel sad at the loss of his parents he wasn't surprised that he felt nothing when he saw the Slytherin curled in a ball inside a secret passageway. He thought he was crying at first, but he wasn't, he was just silent and for a moment Harry thought he was unconscious, or asleep judging by his shallow breathing.

He felt the first twinges of feeling then, he felt a little curious. He wanted to know what was wrong with Malfoy, it was a mystery that he wanted to solve.

Malfoy must have felt the presence and his head snapped up. His grey eyes met Harry's, and Harry didn't flinch as he stared right back.

'Spying on me Potter?' Malfoy asked calmly.

'Just noticed you were here and paused to check if you were dead Malfoy,' Harry said dryly.

'Would you care if I was?'

'No,' Harry replied simply. Although he couldn't help but notice now that Malfoy was bleeding. He frowned at the small pool of blood on the floor. Malfoy looked paler than normal, and his breathing had been very shallow.

'What are you doing?'

Harry hadn't expected him to reply, so when Draco lifted up his arm which was bleeding profusely and said, 'Cutting the skin off so I don't have to look at this anymore.'

It wasn't empathy that Harry felt, he felt a little sick and light-headed but the sight of blood and the familiar metallic smell did that to him. It had done since the war. But he did feel something, the beginnings of something inside began to brew.

Draco made the final cut and breathed a sigh of relief, leaning his head against the wall behind him.

Harry cleared up the blood on the floor and knelt down next to Draco. With wordless incantations he stopped the bleeding, but didn't touch the gaping open wound. It clearly hurt like hell but Draco wasn't showing any signs of that pain and Harry admired his strength.

'Don't,' he said, his tone a warning.

'I wasn't going to,' Harry said.

He knew why, Draco was scared if it was healed the mark would come back. It was highly unlikely but then again he didn't understand the dark magic that went into the mark. He stood up, 'But you can't leave it like that, it will get infected.'

'What else do you suggest then Potter?' Draco hissed, Harry wasn't sure if it was from the pain, or because he was pissed off.

The idea that came to Harry in that fleeting moment was crazy. But it filled him with excitement, a sort of adrenaline pumped in his veins and it felt incredible. It was the most he had felt in months, it was the most he had felt since Voldemort had died.

Draco watched him carefully as he pulled the sleeve of his robes up and cut into his own arm. The Slytherin didn't say anything, and Harry merely hissed in pain slightly. He felt it, he felt every agonising second of it, he felt every cut and the adrenaline pumped harder and faster through his body.

He levitated the skin from his bloody arm and watched Draco do a cleansing charm before placing it on the gaping wound on his own arm. The moment he didn't need to sustain the spell Harry disinfected and healed his arm. He watched as the skin regrew slowly and carefully, weaving its way over the wound. It was pink and red raw once it was finished, but the pain was gone. The adrenaline however wasn't, and Harry felt alive for the first time in such a long time.

He turned his eyes to Draco who had just attached the skin to his arm, like Harry's it was red and looked painful but it was free of any mark. They caught the others eye and said no more words. It was almost a recognition of how screwed up they both were. It was, in Harry's mind at least, the wordless way of saying I'll keep your secret if you keep mine.

Harry walked past Draco into the passage, and continued his roaming. The following morning when he woke up he felt numb again, and no amount of pain helped anymore. Not when it didn't have a purpose, when he didn't have something to do, someone to save, some way of putting his life on the line for someone or something he was empty, and dead inside again.

Draco had changed too, he was quiet. He no longer teased or bullied Harry, in actual fact he and Harry managed to quite comfortably avoid each other and avoid speaking. They therefore never had any reason to talk or bring up the incident from Halloween.

In fact, they didn't talk again until Christmas time. Everyone had left to go home, Harry had opted out of the Burrow, and he knew everyone was secretly quite glad of that. They called him the zombie, and they didn't want him to ruin their Christmas. He was wandering again when he saw Malfoy that Christmas Eve. He didn't wear his invisibility cloak anymore because people avoided him anyway, and they tended to ignore him and let him do what he wanted. They all called him insane, so he supposed it had its advantages.

He had been contemplating a little trip to the Chamber of Secrets as he walked along the 6th floor looking for a passageway to the 2nd floor bathroom that belonged to Myrtle. That was when he heard it, the muted screams. It got the adrenaline going, he thought someone might be in danger and so he had a purpose again so he found the room where the noises had come from and peeked through the door it.

It was the boys bathroom for this floor, and it turned out that nobody needed saving. Not really anyway. The muted screams were actually shouts, and they belonged to a girl in his year, a Slytherin whose name he didn't remember because he really didn't care about those sorts of things. The girl had her tie stuffed into her mouth, and Draco Malfoy was screwing her into oblivion. Her hands were destroying his back, her nails purposefully digging in at his neck and continuing as far down as she could reach. He seemed to welcome the pain, in fact he begged her for it and feeling like he had seen enough Harry walked on and tried to forget the incident as he found his secret passage. But he couldn't forget it, because it only confirmed what he already knew. Draco was just like him, he needed pain and adrenaline to feel alive. Well, for Harry he just needed it to _feel _anything, let alone alive.

The image was burned into his brain, and as much as he tried to forget it Harry knew he wouldn't as he sat down against the wall in Myrtles bathroom. He heard her in the toilet at the end, and he didn't care if she came over to talk to him, he would brush her off as he always did with a nasty comment and she'd splash her way into the plumbing. He liked it here because nobody ever looked for him, because he was entirely alone, and it was blissfully peaceful.

Myrtle did try and talk to him, and Harry did shoo her off easily enough. He was leaning against the entrance to the chamber of secrets trying to remember how to speak parseltongue when a voice very close to him forced his eyes to snap open.

'I didn't know you were a peeking Tom, Potter.'

'Well if you will be so loud,' Harry retorted quickly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, 'Not that you'd know. I believe the golden virgin is another of your many new nicknames.'

Harry snorted, 'Bullshit.'

Draco smirked, and the sight made something stir in Harry, 'Is that so?' he asked smoothly.

'Fame is useful for one thing,' Harry said dryly.

'Not that it's made you feel any better,' Draco pointed out, and Harry wondered for the first time why they were having a civilised conversation. 'you just feel numb don't you?'

'Why do you care Malfoy?' Harry asked irritably.

'I don't,' Draco said smoothly, 'just looking for stories to sell the prophet.'

Harry couldn't take it anymore, he had felt his annoyance build into anger and given his already volatile mood it didn't take long for that to boil over into rage. He pulled out his wand and threw a particularly nasty curse at Draco.

The Slytherin didn't seem to mind as he flung an equally horrible curse back. In fact he smirked and said, 'It's better than numbness, isn't it?'

Harry couldn't deny that, the anger fuelled him and the adrenaline pumped through him once more as he threw himself into the duel with Draco. They were going all out, and more than once Harry wondered if they really were trying to kill each other. But they didn't, Harry flung up a shield charm and then dropped his wand, and Draco stopped.

They were both breathing heavily, and sweating profusely and as Draco turned to go Harry saw that blood had seeped through his white shirt from his back.

'Does it help?' he asked before he could stop himself.

Draco didn't turn around, but he did pause. And then he said, 'It's better to hurt than to feel empty.'

Without waiting for a response from Harry, or perhaps not expecting one he then walked out of the bathroom and left Harry standing there alone, covered in sweat and a little bit of blood.

He went back to his boring, daily routine after that. He vowed not to mention what had happened that night to Ron or Hermione. Just like he hadn't told them about the incident at Halloween. In fact he had been growing increasingly distant from Ron and Hermione as of lately. He found himself dreading them coming back as he went out for his nightly wander the night before the term was due to start once more.

As he passed a few bathrooms Harry half-expected to find Draco again. But he didn't, and when he did run into the Slytherin it was by chance rather than for looking. After all Harry would never have looked for him in the Divination tower. It was one of the parts of the school that had been most badly damaged after the war, and as such as it hadn't been fixed yet. The roof was entirely open to the stars, and it was quite peaceful.

When Harry stepped out from the trapdoor into the open-air room he was genuinely shocked to see Draco.

The Slytherin must have felt his presence straight away but he didn't say anything at first. He was lying on a blanket on the stone floor, and he must have been freezing. It was January, it was snowing and it was -5 at best. Yet Draco was lying there in only his trousers, every other piece of clothing he had discarded at the entrance to the room.

Harry walked over to him and sat down next to him, looking up into the cloudy, starless sky. Not for the first time he wondered what the Slytherin was thinking. But he didn't ask, because he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

'I hate Christmas.'

'Me too.'

'What's your excuse?'

Harry shrugged, thinking back to the war. Thinking of Godric's Hollow, and the snake, and of how Hermione had nearly died. He was certain she had put herself in front of that snake for him, but it had got him anyway, something he was glad of.

'The war, what's yours?'

'The war,' Draco replied dryly, and a shadow passed across his face but he said no more. Harry had no right to know what was going on in his head, not when he never gave the other man any hints to what was going on inside his own.

'You can make me feel better if you want,' Draco said after a long silence.

Harry turned to him, 'How?' he asked simply.

Draco turned his head to the side to look at Harry, who was now lying next to him. He didn't say anything but amusement and adventure flickered in his eyes. It instantly excited Harry, who had been learning fairly quickly that the only time he ever felt anything was around Draco.

Draco's lips latched onto Harry's and he roughly pulled him into a sitting position, so that he was straddling him. Harry had seen it coming, in fact he'd expected it subconsciously since Christmas Eve. He knew it was all wrong, and it was all messed up but he felt more things in that moment than he had in months. He felt irritated for letting himself getting into this position with this weedy idiot who he couldn't stand. He felt frustrated, he felt excited but most of all he felt exhilarated. He kissed Draco back, and he was pleased that nothing about this was slow or gentle, or boring. No, it was nothing like those pathetic forced exchanges with Ginny and other women after the war.

He had the strange feeling that this was forbidden, up here in the ruins of Hogwarts he was with Draco Malfoy. A Slytherin, a former Death Eater, everything he was supposed to hate and yet everything that was giving him so much pleasure. He felt himself smirking as he rocked his hips up, grinding against Draco.

The Slytherin hissed in pleasure and made quick work of pulling Harry's shirt off, neither of them were shivering anymore, despite the cold night. The kiss got harder and Draco bit Harry's lip, drawing blood. Harry didn't care, in fact he welcomed the pain and with a glint in his eye he flipped them. As he pinned Draco against the cold, hard concrete floor Harry smirked, 'You were right. This does help.'

Draco's eyes flashed with something, and he said, 'Would it make you feel better Potter, fucking the person you hate most in the world?'

Harry felt it again, the soaring feeling. He smirked, 'Is that an offer Malfoy?'

Surprise, or maybe it was shock, passed across Draco's face. He clearly hadn't expected Harry to be so eager, 'Really?'

'You asked,' Harry said, aware he was still definitely the one in a position of power here.

'I didn't expect you to agree,' Draco said, and then slowly a grin began to form on his face, 'I never thought you would be capable of it Potter.'

Harry felt different, very different. He felt empowered, and he also felt like he was using Draco while he was in quite a vulnerable way, but he also didn't care. All he cared about was that Draco was spurring him on, smirking at him and willing. He didn't say anything as he loosened his grip on Draco so that the other man could move. Draco watched him carefully, with trepidation, no doubt pondering what his next move would be.

Harry just smiled, slightly amused, 'I'm capable of more than you'd think, Malfoy.'

It did help, it felt better than anything he had felt since Voldemort's death. The bruises he was left with after were a welcome reminder that he was human, that he could hurt, and that he could feel pain. He knew Draco felt the same, although they had never explicitly told the other that. When it was over and they lay on that flimsy blanket sweating and covered in goosebumps as the cool air blew over their bodies Harry sighed deeply, 'It did help.'

'I know,' Draco said a little breathlessly.

They went their separate ways again then, and Harry didn't tell Ron and Hermione what had happened when they came back. But they could see and feel the change in him, he was coming alive again. He talked to them more, he held conversations and he was beginning to feel once more. Every time Draco smirked at him across a crowded room there was a flutter. Every time he got hit with a bludger there was a reminder that he was alive and could feel that pain. Every time he slipped off for one of his night time wanderings and ended up in a sweat soaked, fast, hard and rough encounter with Draco he felt better. He felt the beat of his own heart, and the feel of Draco's rough hands gripping his body, and through the mixture of the pain and the pleasure he began to slowly feel alive. He had been fading, and now he was slowly coming into view again. Sometimes Draco and Harry would talk, but often they would crash together, dress and leave. It was a night at the end of January when things began to change.

They had met in the room of requirement, a bed was a rare luxury and Harry secretly preferred their hasty encounters in broom closets if he was honest. They lay together afterwards, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling, and Harry was reminded of that first night in the ruined tower.

'Thank you by the way.'

'For what?' Harry asked, turning his head to the side to look at the man.

'For saving my life,' Draco said sincerely, 'from the fiendfyre.'

Harry shrugged, 'You saved mine too. In Malfoy Manor.'

'You actively saved mine, I just withheld information,' Draco said.

Harry couldn't help the slight smirk that came onto his face, 'So what you're saying is I'm the active one in this relationship?'

Draco actually laughed as he turned to face Harry, 'Is that what this is then?' he asked, 'a relationship?'

Harry contemplated that for a moment. He wasn't sure what it was, they talked sometimes, and in fact they talked a lot more recently. But mostly they just fucked, and hurt each other, but now they healed each other. A certain fondness had developed between them, and they had never fought it.

'I don't know,' Harry said honestly, 'all I know is that you're the only person who I feel anything around these days.'

Draco nodded thoughtfully and looked back to the roof. They were silent again, and without knowing what possessed him to do it he reached over and took Draco's sweaty, clammy hand. He looked down at his arm, which was still marked, and Draco followed his line of sight. There was a silent understanding and they said no more.

The days became weeks, and their secret meetings became less and less discreet. It wasn't on purpose, they just got worse at hiding it the happier they became, it became less of a dirty secret. But the dirty secrets, and the truth of how much the war had screwed them up still came out over time. Ron and Hermione were suspicious about where Harry was going, but they were also so glad of the change that they didn't dare question it which suited Harry just fine.

On one occasion Harry over-shared. He and Draco were in the room of requirement again, it had become their favourite haunt and Harry expected their over-use of it would get them caught one day soon. Harry had been having a particularly bad week, he didn't know why to be honest. It was the middle of February, nothing significant had happened and there were no events that had set him off but he had been feeling worse than usual, and the numbness which was usually gone had begun to set back in. If Draco noticed he didn't say anything which Harry thought was probably wise.

They had been particularly violent, well Harry had been. He had felt a little guilty as Draco whimpered in pain and he had been silent as he healed the wounds after. When he had done so Harry sighed and fell back onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, and he felt Draco lie down next to him. The blonde's hand slipped into his, and Harry said it, the thing that was on his mind.

'Sometimes I wish Voldemort would come back.'

It took a lot to shock Draco, but that did. Harry saw the shock flash in his eyes.

'What?'

Harry had to elaborate, he couldn't leave it there. So he sighed even more deeply, 'I lived for the adrenaline, the fight, the adventure. It was what kept me going, I don't have a goal anymore…I don't have a bad guy to fight.'

'You really are fucked up,' Draco said matter of factly.

'I warned you,' Harry half-joked.

'Well for the record, I don't want him to come back,' Draco said darkly, 'not after what he did to me.'

Harry frowned and turned his head to the side, 'What do you mean? Trying to make you kill Dumbledore?'

'No,' Draco said, a distant look in his eyes as he looked to the ceiling, 'it was the punishment for not killing Dumbledore that fucked me up.'

Harry's frown deepened, 'What are you talking about, Draco?' he asked, his hand tightening on the blondes.

Draco didn't seem to be able to say the words, he swallowed and Harry pretended not to notice the few stray tears that fell down his face. He didn't even move to wipe them away. Harry didn't push, he didn't say anything, he just waited.

'He used to treat us like pets,' Draco whispered, 'he would use imperius and make people do things and he would just watch and laugh.'

Harry didn't push anymore, and he didn't think he would hear anymore but he could figure it out from those words anyway and they made him feel sick. Harry frowned, scanning the scars on Draco's body, he had a few and he had done since he and Harry started this…thing. He had never asked where they had come from, just like Draco had never asked Harry about his burns, or his scars, or the snake bite that occasionally oozed.

'He used it on Greyback, and he made him…' Draco's voice caught in his throat.

Harry felt physically sick, 'You don't have to say anymore,' he said gently.

Draco wiped his eyes, he didn't seem embarrassed, if anything he seemed ashamed. He drew in a shaky breath and Harry tentatively moved closer, embracing the Slytherin. He thought Draco might pull away, but he didn't. They both sought comfort in this relationship, but they also knew it had become more. Tonight, these revelations, they had made it became that way.

Somewhere they both knew that they couldn't hide it anymore, or perhaps they just didn't want to. They had hid things for so long, they had lied for so long. They just wanted it all to end. So as it was the following morning they walked into the great hall together, just talking and laughing. But it drew people's attention, they smiled at each other and parted ways and Harry sat down in between Ron and Hermione.

They just looked at him at first, and then Hermione smiled, 'So that's the reason for your newfound happiness.'

'I wouldn't call it happiness,' Harry admitted, 'I'd call it healing, perhaps.'

Ron frowned, 'You and Malfoy then? That's a…thing?'

Harry frowned too, 'He and I are sort of…seeing each other.'

Hermione smiled into her hand at the look of shock on Ron's face, 'I don't care if it's happiness or not Harry. I'm just glad you seem to have found yourself again.'

Harry nodded, and glanced over at the Slytherin table. He caught Draco's eye and the Slytherin smiled over at him. It wasn't a smirk, it was a real genuine smile and Harry knew then that through the most unconvential means and by the most unlikely person possible his long suffering was finally ending.

_**The End :)  
**_

_**A/N: Quite different to anything I've ever written, I was a bit worried uploading this on here actually but here it is. And if it's hated I'm sorry! **_


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